


The Bull And The Mage

by Viridis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, POV Iron Bull, Pining, Sex, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 23:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9095179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridis/pseuds/Viridis
Summary: A developing relationship in short, sweet, compact steps… from Bull's POV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is little something I wrote months and months ago, a pretty basic Adoribull thingy, not too innovative, I suppose, but very sweet.
> 
> Thank You goes to my always incredible beta [Fen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Fen_Assan/pseuds/Fen_Assan)! <3
> 
> Enjoy, enjoy - comments more than welcome! :)

The Iron Bull doesn't like the mage.

They find him in the Redcliffe Chantry, fighting demons coming out of the rift, and looking like he is taking a fucking walk in the park. Bull, always suspicious and wary of mages, is immediately uncomfortable. He watches the young man dancing on the stone floor, throwing his magic around in a flashy, deceivingly careless manner, and he recognizes it all for what it is: the Tevinter style of fighting. And Bull hates it, he hates it, because he has been on the receiving end of it too many times.

Bull grimaces and moves closer to Boss, just in case.

Eventually the demons are dead, and Trevelyan closes the rift. The mage greets them with warm, sparkling cheer. He says his name is Dorian of the house of Pavus. His voice is like velvet, and he dresses the same way he uses magic: fancy. And sure, he is definitely easy on the eyes: tall and toned, with golden skin, laughing silver eyes, and a prissy little moustache. Everything about him is graceful, well-thought, and attractive, but maybe a bit too rehearsed.

 _Masks_ , Bull thinks, for he knows.

Bull tells the Inquisitor not to trust him. Dorian gives Bull a look, he probably hasn't seen many Qunari in his life, and Bull can tell he is curious and a bit scared. Bull likes that. He feels Dorian might like that too.

 

***

 

Iron Bull finds out everything he can about the mage.

Which is quite a bit - after all, Bull is with Ben-Hassrath, he knows how to get information and how to read people, all while staying ostensibly readable yet totally obscured himself.

So Bull learns that Dorian comes from a very prestigious altus family, and that his father is a Magister: one day Dorian will be a Magister too. Highly educated and brilliant, Dorian is, or rather has been, filthy rich. Also, he is a goddamn Necromancer. He has left his homeland because of… things to do with his family. (There's probably something painful and scandalous there.) And he seems to have some unusual opinions and views for an upper class Vint.

He is thoroughly spoiled and troubled, a vain hothead with a dramatic flare - and he whines. A lot. He is sarcastic. He compensates something with his arrogance, and concentrates too much on his good looks; his cosmetic arsenal of exotic oils, lotions, kohl, mustache wax, and gold powder has to be seen to be believed. He is charming and overly sexual, flirting all over the place – Bull is the same, of course, but yet, quite different. Bull's flirting is more honest. Probably friendlier.

 

***

 

Bull likes the mage.

Should have seen it coming, because Dorian is actually quite likeable. It is true that he can drive a person insane with just a couple of words, but give him a little more time, and you'll find that he is a good guy. There is gentleness about him, and something one could call basic decency, or a good heart.

Also, he is a bloody powerful mage and fearless in the battlefield, so much so that he occasionally seems suicidal – that worries Bull, but it all requires deeper digging, and he is not there yet.

Dorian is not as open as Bull hoped, he likes to hide and cover things up - not very well, but he does it constantly. He doesn't really lie about anything, but he has secrets, and his mask is firmly in place, no matter who he is dealing with. He won't let anyone too close.

 

***

 

Bull wants the mage.

Nothing strange there. Dorian is gorgeous.

Except that there is something strange there, because Bull realizes that he is doing it all wrong. Usually it goes like this: _well look at that nice ass/redhead/smile_ , which leads to _I Want Sex_. Whereas with Dorian it goes like: _well look at that Dorian_ , which leads to _I Want Dorian_.

Bull being Bull, he acts on it. Not physically, of course, he would never ever touch anyone he isn't sure about, but he is an awful flirt. So he mentions to Dorian how his door is always open if he feels like _exploring_. Dorian rolls his lovely eyes and groans. Bull keeps at it, relentlessly, and then it becomes their thing: the Qunari teases the mage, and the mage reacts with a sigh or a sharp verbal reply. Dorian never gets really mad – perhaps because he knows that Bull honestly means every dirty, adoring thing he says – and sometimes he blushes. (It is a really nice color on him, delicious dusky rose, which makes Bull want to lick him all over.)

But Dorian won't come to Bull.

Maybe Dorian is afraid. He is not used to anyone being open with their advances, especially in public, he is used to quick trysts in dark corners with men who don't talk to him afterwards. Or maybe he is afraid of Bull being a Qunari, a fierce giant with horns, but Bull knows that it is not so - on the contrary. He knows he fascinates Dorian with his huge, scarred body, and straightforward desires, and he uses every chance he gets to flex his mighty muscles in front of the mage, usually getting just the reaction he is looking for. But... Dorian won't come to Bull.

But that's okay, because Bull is patient, so very patient. And if nothing ever comes out of it, oh well, can't have them all. Bull goes on doing his thing; drinking, fucking, killing. The Inquisitor takes him out to the field with her missions, and Bull's mercenary company keeps him busy as well.

He keeps an eye on Dorian though. He is worried about some people treating Dorian badly because he is from Tevinter; Bull has seen them spitting at him, cursing him, calling him a slave owner (and maybe he is). Bull is worried about him not sleeping enough, because he doesn't; he keeps in his nook in the library, buried in with his precious books, and forgets to eat, and sleep, and take care of himself.

Trevelyan is concerned about the same things; despite everyone’s reservations she has taken a shine to the charming mage. Can’t blame her, really, and Bull is genuinely amused by her girly crush, and wonders if she is aware of Dorian’s nature.

So she worries, and Bull worries - and then the Inquisitor takes Dorian out for a mission, and Bull is reminded that Dorian can take care of himself, and other people beside him. He is all power and light, and Bull loves it and laughs out loud. And then Dorian uses his necromancy: he raises the dead and makes them fight for him, and Bull freaks out - he has heard about it, but never seen it before. It is so impressive and so _wrong_.

Oh, Dorian.


	2. Chapter 2

Early afternoon in the Herald’s Rest.

Bull is observing, always observing, because it is his nature and his work, which, as it happens, are the same thing under the Qun. He drinks his beer, casually, and reads the room: analyzes, categorizes, calculates, not even really thinking about it.

He’s been entertaining himself for a while by keeping an eye on a stable hand by the counter; the poor boy has a crush on one of the serving girls, but nothing will ever come of it, because she fancies the blacksmith's apprentice. 

Such a mess - human affairs. Not for the first time, Bull feels grateful over the fact that he is a Qunari, and turns his lazy attention to Commander Cullen, who is sitting with Varric on the other side of the room.

Cullen looks pale and shaky: he is going through lyrium withdrawal besides his usual stress, and he is clearly having a bad day. Varric… he is hard to read, too clever. But today he is laughing, perhaps talking about Hawke again: Varric worships Hawke, unconditionally, relentlessly, and her appearing in Skyhold has done wonders to the dwarf’s mood.

Bull is just about to go and talk to them, when Dorian walks in. Bull's senses sharpen.

Dorian looks beautiful and upset, and he has slept with someone. His outfit, which leaves one arm and part of the chest bare (curse that thing!), reveals a fresh scratch on top of his shoulder and a faint love bite next to it.

_I hope they were good to him_ , Bull thinks, but he is pretty sure they weren't. Dorian notices Bull, walks slowly towards him, and finally sits down opposite him. He is having a hungover.

”Tough night, Big Guy?”

Bull likes to call Dorian Big Guy, and truth be told, he is tall for a human, and has nice muscles too. But he is small next to The Iron Bull, everyone is. Dorian rubs his temples and sighs.

”You could say that. Would you be so kind and get me a drink?”

Bull is kind and orders something liquid that is supposed to pass for wine. Dorian drinks. All of it. And he doesn't bitch about it, which is really odd. Bull frowns. He waits. Dorian stares at his hands.

”I got a letter from my father,” he says. Bull's brain kicks up a gear. Dorian is nervous, angry, and above all, he is deathly afraid. Bull can smell his fear - a very primitive thing, that. 

Bull lays his hand in the middle of the table, offering it for Dorian, so that he could wrap his fingers around it. Bull's hand is massive, heavy, calm – but Dorian doesn't take it, and that hurts a bit.

”Where?” Bull asks. Dorian looks at him with grey, dim eyes. He doesn't seem to hear or understand. Bull nods. ”I will go with you.”

 

***

 

They are to meet a family retainer in Redcliffe. Bull goes, Sera goes, and the Inquisitor goes (and she is mad). They are not in a terrible hurry, and every night they camp Bull hears Dorian talking in his fitful sleep.

_...no son of yours... father don't do this... I love you... I hate you... I love you... I will never forgive..._

Bull doesn't know about parents; he is a Qunari, he doesn't have things like that. But he used to have his Tama when he was little, and he understands friends and the kind of family you build for yourself out of people you care about. He feels bad for Dorian, and he wonders what happened and if it can be fixed.

In the dim light of the tavern, Bull inspects Magister Halward Pavus – for he has decided to show up himself after all. A dark, middle-aged man with a heavy accent and sad eyes. He looks at Dorian like he is drowning, and for a moment Bull thinks maybe whatever this thing is can be sorted out, and then he finds out what the Magister has done, and Bull thinks to Void with it.

He squeezes the grip of his axe, and he wants to crush Halward Pavus' skull, that is all.

Who does that? Who comes up with the fucking insane idea of using blood magic to change a person? And why the fucking fuck would you wish to change a person who is perfect to begin with?

“I only wanted what's best for you, I only wanted to hear your voice, forgive me,” the magister says.

The Inquisitor is really angry now, and Sera is hissing and spitting on the floor: ”Demon ass kissing flappy robe Magister pissbag piece of shit!”

Inquisitor wants to give Dorian and his father some privacy, so they go out. They all wait, ready to intervene if something sounds or feels fishy. Finally Dorian walks out: he doesn't say anything, but he is crying.

On their way back to Skyhold they set up camp again. Dorian has a bottle of Antivan brandy (not really Antivan, Bull thinks), and he retreats into his tent and starts drinking with Sera.

”Talk to him,” the Inquisitor says, her eyes tired. ”You are good at that.”

Bull is, so he does. Dorian is lying on his bedroll, staring at the ceiling. Sera has passed out and is sleeping next to him, her thin arm resting on his chest. She can't handle a drink, at all. She is snoring.

”Hey, Dorian,” Bull says and sits down, trying to find a position where his bad knee doesn't protest too much. He is not sure talking is what Dorian needs right now, but he needs something. ”You okay?”

”Oh, I am wonderful,” Dorian states in a chilly voice. ”I dare say I have never been better.” He glances at Bull. ”And how did you find my esteemed father?”

”An asshole.”

The mage laughs, a short, joyless cackle. Bull looks at him intently, tries to say something nice.

“I am going to guess you take after your mother.”

“No.” Dorian stares into nothingness. “Oh no. Except looks-wise, obviously.” He shows his teeth. “She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”

“...you are very pretty, Dorian.”

Dorian likes hearing he is pretty. He doesn’t always seem to believe it, or at least he doesn’t seem to believe people are saying it without an ulterior motive - and he may well be right - but he likes it all the same.

“Naturally.” He finishes the bottle of brandy (Bull can't believe he is not using a glass), and throws it on the other side of the tent. “Naturally -” 

He covers his face. Bull waits.

Dorian turns and lays his hand on Bull’s thigh. His eyes are narrow and predatory, gleaming like quicksilver, and it is a very good look on him. The hand, light and just a bit shaky, starts gliding upwards. Bull takes his wrist.

”No, Dorian,” he says. It is a hard thing to do, to turn Dorian down, and the cursed mage knows it. He doesn't fight Bull, he doesn't pull his hand away, but rather he leaves it right there, in Bull's grip, and blinks his eyes slowly.

Bull comes to think that he has never actually touched Dorian's skin before, and suddenly he can't stop himself: he makes a little, clumsy circle with his thumb. Dorian's wrist is a warm, strong thing with tendons and pulse, and the bottom of his palm is calloused, yet silky, somehow.

Dorian leans up and sucks Bull's thumb in his mouth.

Bull gasps. His thumb is large and scarred, and there are spots that can't feel anything; but then there are spots that can. And he can't believe how warm and wet Dorian's mouth feels, and in a moment of weakness he lets him do his thing, suck and lick, and swirl his tongue.

Dorian's eyes are closed now and he is moaning softly. Bull's mind goes to a familiar place, somewhere he goes every night nowadays: he imagines how it would feel to have that gifted mouth and those lovely full lips around his cock – for Dorian is so good, almost too good, at what he is doing now.

Bull's body shivers and Dorian takes note. The mage pops Bull’s thumb out and catches his eye. 

”Take Sera out of here and fuck me,” he says, victorious and bitter, his voice a dark whisper.

So hard to turn him down. So. Hard. But this is not the time, and Bull is sort of mad at himself for knowing it. He is frustrated, and his desire is pulsing in him with feverish fire. Dorian sees he is not going for it and gets angry as well.

”You want me,” he spits. Bull nods: he does, of course he does. But he is still going to decline, and he is not going to explain why: Dorian is not stupid, he knows. And yet, the mage tries again. ”I promise, you are not taking advantage.”

”Right,” Bull says. ”I won't. Go to sleep, Big Guy. You need it.”

”Useless savage!”

”Sure.”

Dorian sleeps in his arms that night. He is restless and wakes up every now and then, but Bull keeps his strong arms around him and talks to him in Qunlat, and for whatever reason it seems to calm him down.

When Dorian is asleep Bull breathes in his hair. It feels silky and smells like sandalwood, and Bull loves it.

 

***

 

Back in Skyhold Dorian is not talking to Bull. Actually, he seems to be avoiding him, and Bull wonders about that. He assumes Dorian is ashamed, for whatever reason. Humans are complicated like that. So he leaves Dorian alone, he is not the one to push.

Weeks go by, things happen. The Inquisitor is busy and stressed, they travel to distant locations and do terrible deeds – Bull doesn't mind. He likes fighting, and he is the Inquisitor's bodyguard, it is that simple.

But he is also Hissrad: a spy, a liar, and a stranger in this land. Often he feels too far away from his people, detached, and no wonder - he's been gone for so long. But he misses them, the certainty, the rules, the smell of incense. He misses his own kind, and he wonders if Dorian feels the same.

He thinks about it sometimes, his loneliness. 

That Bull happened to end up as Ben-Hassrath was no coincidence. He ticked all the right boxes: big, clever, pleasant, people's person, an excellent liar. That made him a perfect enforcer and a great spy. That he also had the stability and toughness that helped him survive almost a decade in Seheron, where active service normally lasts up to two years, made him special. He’s been a valuable instrument for the Qun and he likes his work well enough; that he nowadays likes the mercenary work almost better than spying is something he doesn’t really want to think about.

So Bull does his job: slays giants, hunts outlaws, and fucks any willing redhead he sees; Hissrad reads the cantos, listens to conversations, writes reports, and stabs his drinking buddies kindly in the back if so needed. _Nothing personal, bas._

The Qun may be far away, but it is still there, in his core; and maybe he is slipping at times, but he still loves it and finds it worthy.

And then it all comes crashing down.

The assholes in Par Vollen suggest an alliance – a likely set up, Bull thinks, and afterwards he wonders if it was a setup for _him_ , specifically – and so they meet, and what do you know: things go to the Void. They make him choose between his Chargers and the Qun. He feels like his heart is being torn out, he can not, he can not, and there is no time, he must decide now but he can't, so the Inquisitor makes the call.

She saves Bull's company, and Bull is relieved and absolutely terrified, for all that he loves the Qun, he sees he loves his men more. He loves Krem, and Dalish, and Stitches, and the rest, there is no way, and he knows the Inquisitor's decision is the right one.

The Iron Bull returns to Skyhold a Tal-Vashoth, a grey one, a traitor. He has left his life, his life has left him. People talk to him, encourage him, tell him he did the right thing, and to the Void with Par Vollen. Krem hugs him for the longest time. He is such a good guy, and after they hug they punch each other in the arm.

”It’s okay, Chief,” Krem says, but honestly, they both know it is not okay, and never will be. Bull thinks about how he lost his eye saving Krem all those years ago, and what saving him has cost this time - and isn't that a kinda shitty thing to think about. Almost as shitty as the fact that Bull couldn't make the decision when push came to shove. He is so ashamed - but happy Krem is still here, so happy that it hurts.

In the end of the horrific day he finds himself alone in his room, unable to sleep. His thoughts are circling, torturing him. And then, inside this utter loneliness, there is a soft knock on the door.

It is Dorian. Bull is surprised, but he lets him in. The mage looks worried.

”I am sorry,” Dorian says. Whether he is referring to Bull's ordeal, or him avoiding Bull all this time doesn't matter; he means what he says. Bull gives him a thin smile. Dorian sits on the edge of his bed.

”No bottle?” Bull asks. Dorian shakes his head.

”I know, I surprised myself.”

Dorian stares at his hands for a while, like reminiscing something. He looks so beautiful in the candlelight, like an old painting done with muted browns and velvety golds, and for a moment a different kind of pain distracts Bull, and he is almost happy about it.

Dorian turns and sets his hand on Bull's chest. ”You are such a good man,” he says. Bull snorts.

”Yeah, I am a good man who kills things and betrays his country.”

”You were a lousy Qunari to begin with,” Dorian says and smiles. Then he gets serious. ”I know you are afraid.”

Bull is afraid. When Qunari turn Tal-Vashoth, they usually go insane. The rules and the purpose, so strictly pounded into their minds since their birth, gone – it is not an easy thing to overcome. All those terrifying years Bull spent in Seheron fighting those pained, lost people, and now he has become one. Oh, the irony.

”You will be all right,” Dorian says. ”You still have a role. A purpose. That has not changed. And if you need someone to boss you around, I can do that.”

Bull laughs, it is not a happy laughter, but it is grateful. He takes Dorian's hand and squeezes his elegant fingers. There are rings, of course, lovely golden bands with sparkling, pulsing stones and ornate swirls. Bull inspects them for a while, stroking one with a snake head. He is certain the rings are enchanted. Tevinter mages think nothing of carrying those kind of things, they are so different from the restricted mages here in the South. He bites his lip.

”They will send assassins after me.”

”Are you worried?”

”No,” Bull says, sincerely, and pulls Dorian closer. ”Come here.”

Dorian climbs up next to him, and rests his head on Bull's shoulder. They lie there, listening to each other's breathing and the soft crackle of the fireplace. The shadows on the walls flicker and dance.

”Would you kiss me?” Bull asks.

”Yes.”

Dorian kisses him then: light, soft, friendly. He is being careful and comforting, all that he must think Bull needs. There is charming awkwardness to it that Bull enjoys – yet, it is not enough.

”Sweet. But you can do better than that.”

”Obviously,” Dorian states, a bit offended. ”But I – ”

Bull wraps his big hand around the back of Dorian's head and takes his mouth.

Dorian is not fighting, and Bull knows he is the type who likes it rough anyway, so Bull forces his mouth open and goes in. Dorian is intoxicatingly, maddeningly soft and warm, and for a precious moment it all goes away: the Qun, the fear, the pain. Dorian tastes like wine and honey, and Bull can't get enough of him.

Bull is not the one to lose control. Apart from battle frenzy, every single thing he does is a decision, he is not impulsive: he is a Qunari, after all, and Ben-Hassrath, trained over and over again to be in control no matter what gets thrown at him, be it desire, joy, or pain. And furthermore, he would never hurt the ones he cares about. He always asks, he always checks, he double-checks, that is his modus operandi, and he follows it to the letter.

But there is a moment, right here, where his mind goes dark. Whether it is something that can be forgiven, he does not know, and he doesn't care.

He's been aching for Dorian for so long, the day has been so devastatingly awful.

Bull devours Dorian: he forces Dorian under himself, and it is easy, the mage is no match for his muscles, and Bull could break him like a twig if he wanted to. He begins grinding against the warm body under him. He is getting hard, and he wants wants wants so bad.

On some level he hears Dorian saying something, trying to push him away, maybe, but it is all muffled and distant to him now, his focus being so narrow and hazy: all he understands is his pain, and the overwhelming desire.

”Beautiful,” he pants in between kisses, as his hands are groping Dorian's body, ”so beautiful, so gorgeous.”

And Dorian is; his skin feels like warm velvet, his hair like silk, he smells of Northern spices and jasmine. Bull wants him naked, he needs more skin, more warmth, more of this creature in his arms. He reaches for Dorian's robes and grabs the fine fabric, the seams give in –

Bull feels a sharp push and lift, a faint current, and he is being slammed back. He finds himself pinned against the wall, unable to move a muscle. He gasps for air, fights it, and then gives up: he knows when there is a knife on his throat.

Dorian walks before him. He looks flustered and annoyed, his eyes are blazing.

” _I said_ , get off me!”

Bull swallows and bows his head. Or he would, if he could. Dorian stares at him for a moment, then he lets the force field drop. Bull lands on his feet and inhales.

”I apologize,” he says, miserable. He is ashamed; ashamed of what he has done, and even more ashamed of losing control. Dorian touches his lips with his fingers.

”You are forgiven. I am aware I am irresistible. Come back to bed.”

Bull blinks. _What?_

”Are you sure?”

”Of course I am sure, you big lummox. I have nothing to fear.” This was quite apparently true. ”But no tearing my clothes, thank you very much. These things don't come cheap.”

They assume their previous position. They start talking, about small things, everyday things, which is exactly what Bull needs. Dorian keeps stroking Bull's arm, and Bull lets him touch his horns too, which makes them both laugh.

They kiss again. This time it is slow, and makes them both dizzy; Dorian ends up crawling on Bull's chest and smiles, because he feels like a child on his massive body. Bull grins and wraps his arms around him, and because it is impossible to resist, his hands roam on Dorian's backside, eventually. Dorian allows it. But they won't take it further than this, not tonight.

”Thank you,” Bull whispers, and he means it. 

”Anytime,” Dorian says, and he means it too, and his bright eyes are so warm.

Dorian kisses Bull again, and Bull thinks that if he loses his mind or gets killed in the battlefield tomorrow, at least he had this.


	3. Chapter 3

Bull is annoyed.

He is annoyed because he is not sure what is going on. This thing with Dorian – well, he does not know if there _is_ a thing here. They don't act much different around each other from before; a bit warmer, a bit softer, perhaps, and they do seek each other's company. But that's it, nothing else happens, and Bull is lost. He may be good at reading people, but he is useless when it comes to romance, so...

All he knows is that he has never been this infatuated with someone, he has never wanted anyone this badly. And maybe it is just sexual. How would he know? Hey, he is a Qunari, what else could it be?

He needs to fuck Dorian, he absolutely needs to, this much is clear. Fuck him, and get it out of his system, maybe, and yes, stay friends afterwards. Bull is good at staying friends with his lovers afterwards.

His mind made up, Bull spars with Krem (to get himself nice and relaxed), takes a bath, and heads for the tavern.

Bull buys a bottle of wine, the best kind Cabot has, which is not very good, as well as a basket of small, rustic cheese pastries he knows Dorian likes. As he is crossing the yard on his way to Dorian's quarters, Krem decides to be an asshole and tells him that he forgot about the flowers.

Bull has never been to Dorian's room, so he feels a bit weird standing by his door, but he knocks anyway, respectfully, and waits. And then Dorian opens and he looks surprised. Bull shows him the wine, and is allowed in.

Dorian's room is small and filled with books, and candles, and delicate cosmetic jars. It smells of sandalwood, just like his skin. The most notable thing is a large, lavishly framed mirror, something Bull sees Dorian needs, and definitely deserves. Long, dark blue curtains block the light coming through a small window, and in the furthest corner there is a silver lantern casting magical glimmer. His bed is a pile of pillows and dark silk. Bull tries not to smile; it is very Dorian, and somehow very Tevinter.

”Needs more skulls and dragons,” he says, and feels his body reacting when Dorian laughs. They sit on the bed, Dorian cross-legged, and they eat the pastries and sip the wine from tall, thin glasses.

Dorian is beautiful, he is always beautiful, and the more Bull drinks, the harder it is for him to ignore the fact. So he decides to stop resisting; he takes Dorian's glass and lays it on the side table, along with his own. Then he turns to face the mage and looks at him seriously. Dorian's mouth is soft and stained with rich wine, full lips slightly parted, impossible to resist.

Bull swallows.

”Dorian,” he says, and leans down, breathing against those smooth lips, almost ashamed of the frantic pounding of his heart. He closes his eye and prays, even though he has no one to pray to anymore – and then he feels Dorian's mouth, sweet and shy, pressing on his.

It all seems so surreal, like he is having a dream. Bull is not sure which one of them falls on the bed first and pulls the other one down, and then Dorian is naked and he is – he is _so_ – there are no words. Bull stares at him incredulous, pretty much the same way Dorian is staring at him, and then he kisses that glorious golden body all over, kisses it, and bites it, and sucks it till he can't take it anymore and –

the voices Dorian makes; the small, needy moans that shake Bull to the core, the cries, the soft gasps, and muffled words –

_Bull, Bull, Bull_

and then there is the warm scent of oil, and the stretching and bending of limbs - and soon Dorian is under Bull, his eyes huge and black with lust, and Bull's fingers, opening him up, gently, gently –

and then Dorian lets him in, and for a moment he is sure he is going to black out, for it is almost too intense: he wants it so much, and he wants it right away, _all_ the way - but he forces himself to go slow, for he is so big and Dorian is so small and –

Dorian moans and cries under him, boneless and pliant, and maybe a bit in pain too. They kiss: again, and again, and Bull thrusts, thrusts, thrusts into that incredible softness - and then there is nothing but the weightless rising and exploding, falling through the swelling, vibrating sea of pleasure.

 

***

 

”Well,” says Dorian, afterwards. ”That was something.”

They are still lying down, wrapped around each other, neither one of them willing to let go. Bull kisses Dorian's forehead and the side of that soft mouth. He feels so warm and content, so at peace. Has he ever been this happy? Not since childhood, surely. And Dorian is smiling, really smiling, there are tiny crinkles around his eyes, and Bull loves them and thinks how darn sweet he is going to look once he gets older, all wrinkled and grey. And then he thinks how he wishes he could be there to see that, and the thought delights him and scares the shit out of him.

”Sure was,” Bull says. Dorian buries his face in Bull's neck.

”Does this mean you are my lover now?”

”Hell, yeah.” Bull grins like an idiot. ”If you want to keep on doing this… I am all for it.” His grin grows even wider. ”I am ready to go again right now, actually.”

Dorian slaps his arm, but looks pleased.

”If this is how it's going to be...”

”Stop pretending you don't want it, Vint,” Bull murmurs against his skin and slides between those tan, muscular legs again. Dorian gasps and laughs – he laughs often, lightly, flippantly, but rarely with this kind of warmth - and then he touches Bull's face, and his fingertips are so very gentle.

Bull stares at him, hypnotized, smitten, and something stirs in him, something awful and wonderful. He won't let himself name it, not yet, because he doesn’t really understand, but there it is...

Bull loves the mage.


End file.
